


The Crushin' Russian

by DixieFriday



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Crush, Cutesy, F/F, Fluff, Late Night Conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 04:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12149037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieFriday/pseuds/DixieFriday
Summary: AU Everyone in overwatch is kinda like one big family. One night while patrolling the area Solder/Jack sees a glint of light on a nearby roof and goes to check it out, finding a pensive Zarya and a bottle of God Knows What Kind of booze. Conversation and cuteness ensue.Cuteness and fluff so basically the only thing I write besides hard core smut.





	The Crushin' Russian

When Morrison saw the glint of light on the roof of the building he didn’t bother going to check and see if it was the glint of a scope. He knew that sort of light well enough. But he didn’t know what this glint was and that made him uncomfortable so he simply scaled the side of the building till he made it to the gently sloping roof where the glint had briefly overtaken the starlight.

Part of him expected it to be nothing more than some sort of debris blown in the by the wind so he was surprised to see it was a person. He wasn’t as surprised as the person in question, though. Zarya looked up from where she was sitting, elbows on knees, her back stiffening. A bottle of something a rich golden brown sloshed in her hand. The bottle had caused the glint. 

“Oh, sorry.” He said, taking a step backward, “I thought I saw something up here. I’ll go.”

“You had to check. I understand.” Zarya said. Her posture relaxed a bit and she patted the roof next to her, “Sit. Have a drink with me.” 

Jack thought about it, but not for long. Zarya was something of a mystery to him, although he’d read her dossier. He respected her and any chance to get to know those he fought with was likely a welcome one, although he was the sort of man who thought you could never really know anyone completely. 

He strode over and took a seat, his posture a mirror of hers.

“Have drink.” She said, offering him the bottle.

He considered. He’d have to remove his mask of course. She knew that and in a rare show of sensitivity wasn’t looking at him. He shrugged, reached his hand up and unfastened the visor, laying it beside him on the metal roof, then accepted the bottle. “What is it?” He asked.

“Who knows? I got it from fat one and his small friend who laughs too much. Very little motor oil, I think.” She said and offered him a smile.

He grunted a small laugh and took a swig then winced as it first burned his mouth, then throat, “Fuck.” He said.

“Yes, is very good.” Zarya said taking the bottle back and downing a swig that made him wince in sympathy.

They sat there for a while, trading drinks of whatever god awful thing she had gotten from the junker mercs.

It was fifteen minutes of companionable silence and then Zarya spoke, “When was the last time you kissed someone, Soldier?”

Jack was unsure of how to answer this. The drink had made him feel softer, yes, but maybe not soft enough to discuss this. However, he sensed she wasn’t so much curious about him as she was trying to bring up something about her, “A while. You?”

“Not too long.” She said, “But a long time since it mattered.” 

“Same. Is there someone you have in mind?”

The wind ruffled her short pink hair and she looked over at him, “Yes.” 

“Is there a problem?” He asked. 

“I don’t know.” 

He raised his eyebrows turning to look at him, “You sounded a little scared.” Of all the emotions he might have expected from her after a few too many drinks fear was low on the metaphorical list and written in tiny tiny script that only someone with say, a tactical visor could have read. 

Zarya stiffed and her voice rose when she spoke, “I fear no one, omnic or man.” She paused then and smiled a little, her cheeks coloring, “But she is very pretty. Very kind.” Zarya said. 

“You’re very pretty.” Jack grinned at her, the whiskey or motor oil making him more expansive than he might normally have been. She smiled back.

“And you are not too ugly and very kind too. Also, like her, you are my friend.”

Ah, that made sense. “Friends are more complicated.” Jack said. He thought back to when he was younger. To a dark skinned, deep voiced man who made his life very complicated. Then he shook his head, trying to shake the thought out, maybe.

“Very.” Zarya said. A sneaky smirk crept across her features, “How long is this ‘while’? I see the girls from the agency coming in.”

The Agency was a specialized escort branch they used when needed. The people who worked there all had security clearance. They tended to be very fit ex military types who had taken to a more relaxing brand of work. And Jack did use them although he always felt the kissing that happened there didn’t exactly count. It was the kind of kissing to relieve pressure not to fall in love with.

“Who’s this very kind friend?” He asked, steering away from the subject. 

Down in the courtyard voices were beginning to echo and dance around each other the way voices only can in Summer’s air. People coming back from some R&R, he supposed. They sounded like they’d maybe been to see the mercenaries for something to drink as well. Zarya leaned a little, looking over her folded hands to see who it was. 

A tall black man skated by below them. Lucio wasn’t skating in a straight line exactly, more like a serpentine pattern if the serpent in question had just been struck by lightening and lost all motor function. When he howled “Speed boost!” and he succeeded at speeding up this swerve even more and slamming into the far wall. The impact sent him sprawling in the other direction and he lay on his back, unmoving. From just behind him a short, slim woman zipped up to him and squatted beside him.

“You think he’s dead?” Soldier asked, taking another swig of the drink. Zarya didn’t answer immediately and he looked over at her. She was watching the little scene below them, but not with a look of concern so much as one of intense interest. And Jack would be damned if her cheeks weren’t a slight flush of pink.

“Hey.” He said, poking her in the arm.

She cleared her throat, “You said something?” 

“He dead?” 

Below them Lucio sat up, laughing, and them fell backward. A moment later faint snores could be heard. Lena put her hands on her hips and even from this distance Jack could almost hear her sigh of exasperation. She knelt down and started trying to drag Lucio toward the barracks. 

“He’s okay.” Zarya said.

“Maybe you should go help.” Jack tried to make it sound casual, like he didn’t notice the trace of pink, the flush of attraction. He couldn’t blame Zarya. Tracer was an adorable rascal. He took a chance, “Maybe you’ll get that kiss.” 

Zarya looked at him and narrowed her eyes. He grinned and after a few seconds she grinned back.

“Fine, I go.” She stood up and waved down to the struggling Tracer.

“Don’t forget this.” He said, holding up the bottle.

“You keep it.” She said. And before he could argue she’d jumped from the roof, landed with more grace than he thought the large woman could manage, and run toward the two drunk fighters. 

He saw Tracer smile as she approached and a second later, although he couldn’t make out what Zarya said, he could hear the reaction to it - a happy laugh from the smaller woman. It made him smile.

Within moments Zarya had Lucio up on her shoulder, his arms and dreadlocks dangling, and was walking toward the building with Tracer trailing along behind, in front, and occasionally beside them all the while talking animatedly. 

Once they were inside the night settled in, the sun vanished, and he sipped the drink. At some point he realized the bottle was empty. 

This was followed by the realization, a pleasant one, that he was drunk. Time assumed the weird flow that sometimes comes with intoxication and later, an hour or a few minutes passed, he wasn’t sure. He saw Zarya come out with Lena, their arms linked and heads close together in discussion. He lifted his empty glass to them when they passed under him, but neither looked up. 

He figured the Russian would get that kiss.


End file.
